


Into the Fire

by empires



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Explicit Language, Family Drama, M/M, batfam, no place like home for the holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5461874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kon prepares for meeting Bruce Wayne, his boyfriend's adopted father. It goes about as well as you think.</p><p>prompt: burnt dinner</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Fire

“He’s going to hate me.”

“He’s going to love you.”

Kon steps forward so Tim can enter the bathroom. He’s got a bottle of mousse in his hand which makes no sense. Why keep your hair products in the bedroom when you need to bring them into the bathroom because the mirror they are currently sharing? It’s in the bathroom. It’s an odd habit, and Kon would call him on it, again, if he didn’t have impending doom arriving in a half hour. “Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying,” says Tim.

“Stop exaggerating. Trying to make me feel better,” Kon says turning back to the mirror. He sighs and pulls at the knot around his throat. He never mastered ties and that breach in etiquette is coming back to bite him in the ass tonight. 

“Fine. He’ll tolerate you presence for the night, wake up tomorrow secure in the fact that I’m happy, and then spend the next few weeks arranging get togethers to show he’s cool with us dating.”

“That’s not what you said before. You said he’d love me.” Kon’s yanks the tie loose for a fourth time. “So you were conflating the truth.”

Tim catches his eye in the mirror. “Conflating?”

“Word of the day,” he mumbles.

Tim grabs the tie from his hands. “Come here you big lump,” he says, tugging gently until Kon tilts down at just the right angle for Tim to kiss him. “He’s not going to care about your vocabulary.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” says Tim, nudging up to press their lips together. “Probably has your SAT scores in your background check anyway.”

Kon jerks back. “Background check? You’re kidding right?”

Tim pats his chest and pushes towards the door.

“You’re not kidding and. Hey! What are you doing with my tie?” Kon trails behind him because he needs that tie. 

“I’m hanging it back up. Just wear the sweater, Kon. It looks good on you.”

Kon snatches the aforementioned sweater before it smacks him in the face. 

“I just don’t see why you’re having such a hard time with this. It’s dinner with Bruce. No big deal.” He catches Kon’s button-down and hangs it back up in the closet.

“It’s dinner with Bruce _Wayne_. Your adopted dad. It’s a big deal.”

“No, it’s not. And if you treat it like it is, this thing will go down in flames.”

Kon freezes. “You don’t mean. Us?”

“Kon! No! I mean this dinner. You seriously need to relax.”

Kon is relaxed. He’s worn and ready like a pair of Pa’s old Wranglers, and he’s about to tell Tim this exact thing except that he’s interrupted by the doorbell. 

“Oh god. He’s early? I’m not even wearing shoes yet.” All the blood seems to have drained from Kon’s body. He feels a little dizzy and it doesn’t help that Tim looks a bit spooked as well.

“Put on your shoes. I’ll grab the door.”

“Good plan.” Kon catches him by the belt loop before he leaves. “Turn down the stove. I’ll be right up.”

“Yeah.”

“We got this.”

“Yeah,” Tim repeats. His fingers curl against the soft hairs at the base of Kon’s neck. His eyes are so big, endless as the morning sky. “We got this.”

“Tim. I—“

The doorbell rings again.

Tim darts, soft press of lips, and then he’s untangling himself. “Really don’t think we should keep Bruce waiting.”

Kon takes a second to steady himself then finishes his mental checklist. Shoes? Check. Black belt to go with the sweater? Check. Another discreet spritz of cologne? Check. It’s now or never. Then he hears laughter. He knows that laugh. Some of the tension eases from his shoulders at the sound, and it feels like a thousand pounds rolled from his shoulders. Maybe he does need to relax.

It’s not Bruce standing in the living room when he arrives up front. It’s Tim’s brother, Richard—call me Dick, and Jason, his boyfriend who is, coincidentally, Tim’s almost-adopted brother as well. Kon knows there’s no such thing as an uncomplicated family—look at the secrets hiding in his own—but secretly, he feels the Wayne family complications are over the top. Confronting them head on tonight is a little overwhelming. He can admit that now.

“Connor. Hey!” Dick breezes over and pulls Kon into a quick hug. “We’re just here to give you a moment of moral support.”

“And alcohol,” says Jason. “Mostly alcohol because you’re going to need it.”

Dick snaps and points his fingers at his boyfriend. “None of that. Ignore him,” he says. He turns a warm smile to Kon. “We’re an exception. You two are going to be just fine.”

“Of course we are,” says Tim, hefting a bottle of wine. “But thanks for bringing the big guns. This is Bruce’s favorite,” he confesses. “It’ll go well with the risotto.”

Dick’s smile falters. “Risotto?” 

“That’s another of Bruce’s favorites.” says Jason, eyes narrowing. “What’s for dessert? Cherries jubilee?”

Tim’s cheeks fill with color.

Jason’s laugh is softly mocking. “Oh kid. It should be about _you_ , not him.”

“Like you know,” Tim says, stiffly.

“Yeah, Tim. Like I do know.” Jason waves his hands between himself and Dick. “We know. And I’d have thought that having the king of fuck-ups leading the way, you’ve learned a thing or two about Wayne wrangling.”

Tim glares at him, but Kon knows that particular rhythm of his heart. He’s saddened by Jason’s words.

He steps behind Tim and presses a hand to the small of his back. “Look. I offered to cook risotto because I make a really mean risotto,” he says. “But the dessert is. Yeah. Ending on a high note kind of thing.”

“Which is a good strategy. Has Tim written all over it,” Dick says with a wry smile. “You though. You’re not being supportive.” He nods towards Kon. “That’s being supportive” He takes Jason’s hand. “So is this.” They share a look, and Kon hopes that Tim never learns this particular move from his big brother, because he can _feel_ Jason capitulating under the beam of warm censure and gentle acceptance radiating from Dick’s eyes. It’s kind of embarrassing. 

“Fine,” says Jason. “I could’ve said it better. But I meant it.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Always so good with the apologies, huh, Jason?”

“Did anyone hear me apologize?”

“Tim,” says Dick, interrupting what was about to be an actual argument. “He is right thought. Tonight is about sharing a part of your life with him. You guys have something good. Be proud of that.”

“And you.” Jason turns his dark eyes towards Kon. “You love him? You’re making him happy? You guys are enjoying life together? That’s all that matters.”

Kon exhales, releasing a little more anxiety from his body. “Right. Thanks.”

“No problem, kid.”

“Okay. That’s all we wanted to say, Timmy." Dick opens his arms. "Good luck."

“Tim,” he challenges, walking into his brother’s hug.

“Timmy. Timmy tum tum,” says Dick with a laugh. He ducks Tim’s punch. “Let’s get out of here before we ruin your dinner.”

“Baby,” says Jason, “You couldn’t ruin anything.”

Dick slides under Jason’s arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. But it really is about Tim and Connor tonight. So let’s just go before—“

The doorbell rings. All three of the mostly Wayne brothers wince. 

Tim shoves the wine into Kon’s hands. “It’s going to be okay. We got this.” 

“Of course we do, babe.” He kisses Tim’s forehead. “Just tell me our next step.”

Tim turns to his brothers. “You two just.”

“Climb out the window?” Jason suggests.

“Breeze on out the door when Bruce comes in," says Tim. "It’ll be easy. Painless.”

Painless isn’t the word Kon would use judging by the grip Dick has on Jason’s hand. He sets the bottle down on the television stand and moves to flank Tim at the door.

Kon hasn’t been in Gotham more than a few months, but he’s long understood the influence of Bruce Wayne. He’s everywhere—the morning news, the evening news, newsstands, Forbes online, TMI, Chirp, Instacam. Kon has seen his face a million times. But damn if that didn’t prepare him for the fact how good looking Bruce Wayne is in person, or the fact that he carries power like a tangible cloak over his shoulder. Kon wrestles with the urge to avert his eyes. He wins over it, of course, but it is a near thing.

“Tim, Connor. It’s lovely to see you tonight,” Bruce says in a cheerful, welcoming voice. He holds up a bottle of wine. “Sorry we’re a little early, but my partner here wanted to make a good impression.”

Tim accepts the bottle with a thin smile. “It’s no problem at all, Bruce. Come on in and say hello.”

Bruce’s handsome smile melts into a look of guarded surprise when he steps into their living room. “Dick, Jason ” he says, voice subdued. “Hello.”

“Bruce,” says Dick.

“Disappointed foster-dad,” says Jason.

“Jason,” sighs Dick.

“Jason,” says Bruce and this time his voice is edged with hurt. Not that Kon is listening too closely. He’s more concerned with who followed Bruce through the door.

“Clark Kent,” says Dick.

“ _Clark_ ,” says Kon.

Clark’s eyes widen behind his glasses. “ _Kon_?”

Bruce assesses both Clark and Kon with shrewd eyes. His voice is mild when he says, “Do you need to tell me something, darling?”

“Down Bruce,” says Clark. “This is my cousin, Connor Kent.”

“Cousin?” Bruce asks dubiously. Not that Kon can blame him, really. Standing in front of Clark always feels like looking into a mirror tilted fifteen years to the future. But there are more important things to discuss other than how he and Clark are and are not related. 

“Darling?” Kon counters. 

“He calls me that when he’s angry,” says Clark.

“Clark,” says Bruce, pained. 

“Or when he’s about to be angry. Same thing, if you ask me.” Clark turns on that disarming smile.

Kon brings up his hands unsure if he's about to shove Clark through a wall, hug him for being here in what is quickly becoming a time of crisis, or throttle him for being a part of said time of crisis. "You're gay?"

“No, no. Let’s get back to the cousin thing,” says Jason. “Not that I doubt you. It’s just that Connor here looks like he immediately sprang from this guy’s jizz.”

Everyone winces at that one. There’s a muffled thump.

“Ouch. Okay, yeah,” says Jason. “That was uncalled for. Sorry.”

Kon and Clark share a quick look. How awkwardly close to the truth.

“Bruce,” says Dick, voice strained. “Did you bring a date to Tim’s dinner?”

“Yes. I felt like this would be as good for us all to meet.” He turns to Tim, ready to speak, when Dick shouts. 

“This night isn’t about _you_ , Bruce!”

“Is something burning?” Clark asks into the silence an instant before the smoke detector blares. 

“The risotto!” Tim cries and dashes for the kitchen.

Kon sighs. There goes dinner.


End file.
